The Ghost's Drabbles
by Violin Ghost
Summary: Welcome to my drabbles. Featuring, so far, Faramir and family, Éomer and family, Aragorn and family, and Imrahil and family. These refer to what I've written and will be posting, not what I've already posted. More to come.
1. Fruits

Welcome to my drabbles. Do drop a review, if you're so inclined, and tell me what you think.

_A drabble, exactly one hundred words._

**Fruits**

Éomer watched her move across the room, her flowing white gown contrasting sharply with her dark hair. He smiled slightly as she executed a graceful curtsey for Aragorn; he frowned when a young man instantly approached her and claimed a dance. Oh, but she was beautiful, he thought, a touch wistfully.

"What keeps you so occupied, my lord?" Lothíriel seated herself beside him, also watching the willowy woman.

Éomer kissed his Queen's hand.

"Through all the years, we have labored. Now we see the fruits."

Lothíriel smiled in answer, and they continued to watch their daughter with tenderness and pride.


	2. Payment

_A drabble, exactly one hundred words._

**Payment**

"Look at me. _Look at me_."

The little girl continued to gaze at the ground, refusing to meet her father's eyes.

"I said look at me, Siliviel."

Unwillingly, she raised her great cerulean eyes to look into her father's questioning grey ones.

"Why did you do it, Siliviel?"

"Because Elboron was being cruel," she said falteringly, silently pleading with her father to understand.

"How so?"

"He said I was too little to get anything done."

"And you found it necessary to prove him wrong by putting so many frogs in his bed, he leapt off screaming?"

Siliviel brightened. "He screamed?"


	3. A Final Farewell

_Exactly two hundred words._

**A Final Farewell**

"You will be in danger."

"I have been in danger, many times, Théodwyn. Hunting orcs is no mean feat. But they must be punished for their cruelty." Éomund strode about the room, as if imagining himself already hot on the orcs' heels. "I fight for love of my country, for love of my people, for love of our horses, for pride and honor."

She bent her head and said, very softly, "And do you not love your family enough to keep yourself out of harm's way?"

He took her hand and kissed it. "I love you and the little ones more than life itself," he vowed, in a voice as soft as hers, "but I must ride after these orcs. I will keep myself safe." He stood up, kissed her gently, and then said, "Do not wake the children. I will be back soon enough—they need not know I was away."

He strode out and mounted the saddled horse waiting for him outside. His men stood in the night as well, awaiting their Marshall. Théodwyn stepped out and looked silently on as the men readied themselves.

She raised a hand in farewell as a tear slid down her cheek.


	4. Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star

_Exactly one hundred words._

**Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star**

They gazed at the heavens through their wide window. Stars twinkled merrily down upon the two.

"They're pretty, Mama," said Eldarion sleepily, safely snuggled in Arwen's arms.

Arwen smiled tenderly and stroked his curls. "Do you see that beautiful, brilliant star that blazes across the sky?"

Eldarion followed his mother's finger. "The bright one?"

"Yes, darling. Make a wish on it. It is your grandfather's father who steers that star—perhaps he will carry your wish to the Valar."

"I wish our family to be together for always," Eldarion murmured, before drifting off.

Arwen smiled sadly and held him closer.


	5. Just For You

_Exactly one hundred words._

**Just For You**

Faramir stared at the congealed mass in his bowl. "What is this, sweetheart?"

Siliviel smiled happily. "I made you breakfast, Papa."

Faramir continued to stare at his food, unable to gather the courage to pick up his spoon. Éowyn, who had pleaded "not hungry", watched him amusedly.

"Go on, Papa, eat!"

He shoved his spoon into the supposed oatmeal and nervously brought it to his mouth.

He managed to disguise his choke as a cough and instantly reached for a glass of water.

"Is it good, Papa?"

Faramir looked into the hopeful little face and managed to say, weakly, "Delightful."


	6. Papa, Just Killed A Man

_Exactly one hundred words. The title is a nod to Bohemian Rhapsody, one of the best songs in music history._

**Papa, Just Killed a Man**

"I was standing there, he was about to kill me, so I raised my sword, and when the mist cleared, he was just lying there. He was dead. I _killed_ him."

Imrahil pulled his youngest son into a fierce embrace. "I understand, Amrothos. Believe me, I do."

"I hate the war," mumbled the eighteen-year-old. "There is no use for it—what do we lose, what do we gain? Only innocent lives that could have been saved had there been no war in the first place."

"If only others saw it that way," murmured Imrahil, "this would be a better place."


	7. A Confession

_Exactly one hundred words. By the way, all of my drabbles are counted by MS Works._

**A Confession**

"It's a seashell," she explained. "You put it to your ear to hear the sea."

He turned it over, tracing the swirling design, and murmured, "It's beautiful." He handed it back to her.

She cupped it in her hands. "The sea has always had my heart in its keeping," she said hesitantly, from where she was kneeling on the sand. "But now… my heart belongs to another."

His gold hair whipped about his face as he turned back to look at her.

Lothíriel silently placed the shell in his hands once more, and he enfolded her in a tender embrace.


End file.
